


Underwear Soup

by bezitazita



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4457762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bezitazita/pseuds/bezitazita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of short stories featuring the sassiest, classiest, and smart-assiest of the Dragon Ball families. Stories range from pre-android Vegeta and Bulma interactions to post-Buu family fics!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Dip.

The new pool had gone in at the Capsule Corporation grounds in just a matter of days. It had flowed out of her pencil less than a week before the ground was broken, the concrete was poured, and the waterfall was installed. The worst heatwave West City had seen in a century was no match for Bulma Briefs, no sir. The sun was beating down harshly as she dipped into the temperature controlled waters. Her breath caught as she sunk down past her shoulders and the water rushed over her head. Gasping, she reemerged and paddled over to the pool wall. She grabbed her martini for a quick sip before swimming a few laps.

This is the life, she mused as she swam gracefully through the water. Just that morning she had gone shopping for a new bikini while a few workers adjusted the chlorine and made sure the waters were ready for a dip. She had settled on a purple number, high wasted with adorable little polka dots. The top was a halter and gave her a nice lift for a two piece. Vintage was totally in this summer and her curves were thankful. She had picked out a stunning white sunhat and cat eyed glasses for lounging, but it was far too hot to sit next to the pool. Around others, Bulma was all about presentation; on her own time, practicality was essential. If the pool had been ready that morning, she would have gone swimming in her underwear to escape the heat. There was no one around for her to impress, after all.

As if on cue, she heard the door to the gravity room shut with a loud clanging noise. She hadn’t seen Vegeta enough lately to mention that a pool was going in, though he had to have seen the giant hole in the ground. On second thought, she hadn’t spoken to him in probably two weeks. All they did was bicker. She had never shared two civil words with him. Bulma closed her eyes and kicked off underwater. How ungrateful, she thought. Where would he even be if my parents and I hadn’t taken him in? There probably aren’t a lot of free hotels in deep space…

She resurfaced and wiped the pool water from her eyes. Just across from her, the prince stood with crossed arms at the pool’s edge. He surveyed the new addition with his usual scowl.

“Never seen a pool before?” Bulma teased, pushing her sopping wet hair off of her face. “You do know how to swim, right?”

“Of course I know how to swim,” he spat. He stood there still, glaring at her and the water. He was glistening with sweat, already having worked out for several hours by noontime. He wasn’t wearing his regular training getup, but was wearing black shorts and a Capsule Corp tee with the sleeves torn off. On second thought, it was much more likely that his biceps wouldn’t fit and they ripped on their own accord. Even saiyan princes had their “laundry day” attire apparently.

Bulma paddled lazily to the side of the pool and rested her arms on the warm tiles. Water ran off her arms and puddled. She smiled and chose this as a peacemaking moment. “Why don’t you get in here and swim? Cool off for a minute. You don’t need to train every minute, do you?”

She heard him mumble something about ascending and androids, but he lifted his shirt over his head regardless. She had seen him shirtless dozens of times, but he was still just as much of a work of art every time. She had dated Yamcha for a long time and he was muscular, yes, but Vegeta was in a whole different league. His muscles looked like they had been chiseled out of stone. He had scars all over his olive skin, but they all held a story. He fought for those etchings. He turned to drop his shirt on one of the lounge chairs and remove his boots, allowing her a chance to check out his other side. Broad shoulders led way to a trim waist. He had a grisly scar across part of his back that looked almost like claw marks. This was the deepest scar she could see, save for the clean cut left from his tail. As bizarre as it may have seemed to anyone else on Earth, she imagined the tail would have been quite sexy. She stopped herself at this point and crept along the pool wall to where her martini sat and downed it. Vegeta turned as the glass returned to the tile with a soft clink.

“Lush, aren’t we?” he remarked, though with a jesting air. He is in a decent mood, she mused. For a quick second, she wished she had been lounging outside of the pool so he could catch a glimpse of her new bikini. How could he pass up her curves in this suit? Maybe she needed a second drink…

Vegeta dove into the deeper section of the pool, splashing very little water but causing large waves at the speed at which he swam to the far side. His tall hair preceded the rest of him as he came back up to the surface. One of the waves hit Bulma in the face, causing her to swallow a large gulp of pool water.

“Be careful, you jerk!” she coughed, leaning on the pool wall again. As she expected, he smirked and swam across the pool faster, causing larger waves this time. Water splashed over her head, the difference was that she had managed to get a breath in. As the pool began to settle, one of the serve-bots came from the house with drinks. It brought two this time; Bulma suspected that her mother had seen Vegeta approaching the pool and sent one for him. She took the glass for herself and motioned for Vegeta to come get the other glass.

“Why would you even want to drink so early?” he scoffed, resting his arms on the wall and letting the rest of his body float.

“It’s called relaxation,” she replied, taking a dainty sip. “You should try it sometime.”

“I will relax after I have ascended to my birthright as the Legendary,” he retorted, his usual bite in his tone. “I will rip these cyborgs apart with my bare hands, I swear it. And after I have defeated them, I will get my revenge on Kakarott.”

As if he had forgotten something important, he turned and lifted himself from the pool. She admired his perfect form once again, this time getting a glance at where his shorts clung tight from the water. As he bent to grab his boots, she admired how perfect his backside was. Chiseled, once again, was a good word. Even with so much muscle, it still had quite a nice curve to it. Even better was when he turned and she caught the briefest glimpse of his package. Although she snapped her gaze away almost immediately for fear of him noticing, she could tell that he had at least a decent setup there. She stared awkwardly into nowhere until he powered up, raising his ki to dry himself. She jumped slightly as he barked, “Drink them both. I have more important things to do than converse and waste time. We are all dead if I sit idly by.”

With that, he flew back to the gravity room and slammed the door loudly. A few seconds passed before Bulma floated lazily back into the waters, drink in hand. What a tease, she thought. I really do need both of these.


	2. Drip.

 

                Drip. Drip. Drip.

                A tiny red light flashed every time a drop was released from the syringe, falling into the beaker below with a tiny _plip_. Bulma knelt on the ground before her setup, her fogging goggles in line with the top of the beaker, and waiting with bated breath. Finally, a flash of pink and she jumped up to turn off the dropper, whistling as she marked down her final volume. One more titration and she could finally leave the lab. The large room was beginning to get rather warm; she suspected the air conditioner was going out, but she had too many things to do without having to fix it. Once she had all of the data she needed, she would call someone to take a look… perhaps one of the interns. Her current project was much more important than the heat in the room. The temperature didn’t affect her current work anyway.

                Bulma nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned into something solid. Luckily she wasn’t holding any of her glassware, as it would have gone flying from her hands. It was her favorite prince, glowering as usual. Bulma was livid.

                “What are you doing in here? You almost gave me a heart attack!” She yelled at him. “You are lucky I wasn’t holding anything. I am dealing with very concentrated acids!”

                Vegeta smirked and folded his arms, leaning against the counter. Bulma gasped audibly. He raised a hand lazily and started to inspect his nails. He said, “The old man said you were down here. There’s a glitch in the training simulator. You need to fix it.”

                She nearly popped a blood vessel. Breathing in and thinking about what her latest self-help book had suggested for lowering anger levels, she said calmly, “I am busy, Vegeta. I have work to do. I have a job. Money doesn’t just fall out of my ass. I have to work for it.”

                “And I have to work to defeat the androids,” he replied cooly. “If I don’t defeat those mechanical jokes, we are all dead anyway and there won’t be any use for your money or any of this. Fix the simulator.”

                “I have about an hour left here, less if you will stop bothering me. You aren’t even wearing proper lab attire. You passed about ten signs telling you that lab coats, long pants, and goggles are required. You have none of those things on. BYE!” she strained the last bit, trying to push him out of the lab by force. He side stepped, causing her to bump into a folding table she had set up with a plastic jug on top. The jug tipped, spilling all over Vegeta’s abdomen and soaking into his clothes. Bulma shrieked.

                “Take your clothes off now!” she yelled, pulling him towards the corner of the lab where an emergency shower was set up. “Screw modesty, take everything off.”

                This time, he didn’t fight her. The acrid smell of strong chemicals burned at their noses as Bulma forced Vegeta’s shirt over his head. Reaching up, she pulled the handle of the shower and a torrent of water came rushing over both of them.

                “Pants too if you value what’s inside them,” Bulma said, a tinge of pink flitting across her cheeks. Vegeta complied, though hesitantly. She looked away, even though she wanted to look… for science’s sake, of course. She busied herself with grabbing a privacy screen and plenty of dry towels. As she tossed a towel on the bench near the shower, she remarked, “Of all the things I was working with, that was the most dilute. Good job, asshole. That could have been much worse.”

                “How long do I have to stay under this?” Vegeta asked, sounding rather irritated. “This water is freezing.”

                “Probably fifteen minutes at least. This is your own doing. Those signs are posted for a reason,” she replied as she stripped off her wet lab coat. Her t shirt and jeans underneath had managed to stay relatively dry thanks to the protective coating on her outermost layer. Her big curls were now limp and stuck to her face. She twisted her locks up in a towel and returned to where the spill had occurred; It looked like most of what had spilled had gotten on Vegeta instead of the floor. Slipping on some gloves, she wiped up the small amount of acid on the floor with paper towels. As far as spilling anything, it was not the worst thing that could have happened. The compound was essentially concentrated vinegar. She was almost grateful Vegeta screwed up because hopefully it would teach him a lesson. Another ten minutes passed as she cleaned up the mess and then sat at her lab table. The screen she had dragged out was high enough to cover up the prince’s form, but was short enough that she could see how pissed off he was. He reminded her of a very mad cat caught in a downpour. His patience was wearing thin. She figured it should be okay for him to step out of the water now.  

                “Okay now, you can turn it off. Pull the handle,” she sighed. Vegeta was all too eager to get out of the cold water and get back to incessantly bitching. Now that he was out, she brought him a robe from the stockroom. He dropped the towel he was drying with as she moved to hand him the robe. If her face displayed any of the shock she felt, she probably looked like she had never seen a naked man before.

                “Take a good look, sweetheart,” he teased her with the nickname she threw at him so often. He sneered as he yanked the robe from her hands and pulled it over his dripping body. He fastened the belt and strode towards the door, brushing Bulma’s shoulder as he passed. She stumbled but caught herself; she was used to him bumping into her when he walked past. He stopped at the exit to the lab and shot her a cocky glance, but with something else that she couldn’t put her finger on.

                “One hour,” he said in a low voice. “Finish your playtime and then fix the simulator.”


	3. A Date and a Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bunny has always wanted a date with Vegeta... but how did she manage to actually get him to go along with it?

He hadn’t noticed her entering his chambers. He had never known her to be quiet or stealthy before. He was just getting ready to shower and to retire for the night when he turned to see the lady of the household standing in the doorway. He jumped in surprise, and his surprise turned to mild annoyance.

                “Vegeta-chan,” Mrs. Briefs called in her sweet, melodious voice. “It’s pretty early for you to be back in the house.”

                Vegeta said nothing in response. It was true that he was in earlier than normal. He didn’t need to sleep as much as humans seemed to sleep so he would often come back inside in the wee hours of the morning, nap for a few hours, and go back to training. Because he had felt that he hit a plateau with the current equipment, he decided to turn in a little early.

                Also, there was another motivation…

                “Listen, sweetheart,” Mrs. Briefs began again. “I think it’s about time you took a teensy little break during the day. I am going into town tomorrow and I would like for you to go along with me. I will make it worth your while.”

                She winked at Vegeta, catching him completely off guard.

                “Bulma has a very important conference tomorrow so it is probably best you don’t go in there and wake her,” she noted, now strolling past Vegeta and taking a seat on his bed. “This is a very big deal for her, for the company, and for all of us. While we’re out I will have my husband do some alterations on the training equipment for you, okay?”

                She was now absentmindedly fluffing the pillows on the bed, giving him that saccharine smile all the while. Vegeta was utterly stunned and gave a half nod in response. Was this blackmail? Was this a slap on the hand for the canoodling he and the woman had been up to lately? Was this bribery? Although he had been through a lot of different bargaining and negotiations in his several decades of existence, he hadn’t run into such an odd situation.

                With that, Mrs. Briefs hopped from Vegeta’s bed and patted him on the shoulder. “Well then, let us plan to leave at 8:00 sharp. The best time to hit the shops is right when they open. We will do brunch, my treat. Sleep well, Vegeta darling.”

                Vegeta could have had an aneurism at that very moment.

 

 

                “You’ve got this,” Bulma said to herself in the mirror. She had been up since before the sun rose rehearsing her speech and working out her nerves. She had started her morning with yoga and a cup of tea. After that, she took a stroll around the compound with her note cards in hand. Besides the birds, she was the only one up so early. After her stroll, she showered and prepped herself appearance wise. Today was the day she would deliver her largest sales pitch to date. Getting up early and working out all the nerves had been her key to success in the past.

                She turned around and admired herself from every angle. She had picked out a pencil skirt suit and a modest heel. Her mother had lent her the pearls she received for her wedding, a good luck charm as she had said. With a glimpse at her watch, she determined that there was no room for delaying anymore; it was go time.

                Bulma passed her parents’s room on her way out. The door was open and her mother was bustling about putting herself together for the day. She caught sight of her daughter and smiled. “Bulma-chan! You look so beautiful!”

                “Thanks, Mama,” Bulma said, spinning in place happily. “I think I am finally ready. I have been up for hours.”

                “Just like your father,” Mrs. Briefs noted. “He always gets up nice and early before a big day. He sends his regards, by the way.”

                “Where did dad get to? Come to think of it, where are you going?” Bulma quizzed. “You are all dressed up.”

                Mrs. Briefs gave her a little wink. “I’ve got a date with a handsome gentleman. I have to look my best!”

                Bulma sighed. Her mother was always so cheery and flirty. She had no clue how her father was okay with her little outings with other men. In the end, it was always just lunch, and usually with prospective clients. She was Dr. Briefs’s secret weapon in securing deals with tough cookies.

                “Have fun with that,” Bulma said with a roll of her eyes. Although she wasn’t above using her assets for persuasion, she firmly believed that it was her brain that did the real convincing.

 

 

                “I’m so glad you decided to join me, Vegeta-chan,” Mrs. Briefs exclaimed as she shut her car door. “I am going to spoil you rotten today. We are going to have a great day!”

                The current renovation being done on the simulator was the only reason that Vegeta had allowed himself to get dragged into this position. When he had woken up that morning, the old man was already at work in the basement level lab. He had been down there to question him about the specific repairs and upgrades for the briefest of moments before returning to his quarters. Just as he closed the door, he heard the woman enter from a morning stroll. The whole house was awake at such an odd hour. He heard her hum tunelessly as she passed his door and fought the urge to grab her and pull her in with him. Though they were trying to keep things as low key as possible, seeing that neither of them wanted anything serious, the tension between them in everyday settings was heavy. He still couldn’t believe that her parents knew.

                Mrs. Briefs was an atrocious driver. Vegeta regretted his agreement just a few minutes into the drive when the matriarch nearly rear ended a parked car. She either drove well under the speed limit or at least double what the traffic signs displayed. At this rate, he was going to die in the car with Mrs. Briefs and not by any android’s hands. The drive was fairly short, thank Kami, but Vegeta had to instruct her how to park in a standard parking spot (even without ever having driven an Earth vehicle). They had come to a crowded shopping area full of quaint, pricey specialty boutiques. It was a rustic-looking square with a fountain playing in the very center. The people around them looked very well to do and snobbish. It was no surprise that Mrs. Briefs had brought him here.

                “Veggie-chan,” Mrs. Briefs said in her sing-song tone. “No price is too high, so you know. I am spoiling you today. It’s not often I get to do more than dine with handsome gentlemen. I am happy to treat.”

                Vegeta growled low in his throat, disgusted at the pet name, but crossed his arms in complacence. It was only a few hours and he would have new upgrades. He repeated this many times in his mind as Mrs. Briefs dragged him through the shops, her arm linked in his. She did get a lot of glances from the other cougars in the shops, seeing as how she was about the same height as her unwilling date (she had the sense to wear flats to appear nice and dainty). She was absolutely dwarfed by Vegeta with his sheer muscle mass and loved to comment on that fact. She repeatedly squeezed his biceps and swooned over how handsome she thought he was. While most men would probably swell up with the attention, Vegeta got more and more annoyed with every comment.

_Just think about the upgrades… just think about the upgrades…_

                One of the benefits of being paraded around the bougie area of town was that there were several high end men’s athletic stores for him to pick up some lighter duty training gear. At Mrs. Briefs’s insistence he was fitted with top of the line cross trainers, workout pants, and super-light workout tees. Bunny set up a delivery for later that afternoon and the store owner was more than happy to oblige, seeing as how they bought nearly everything in the store in Vegeta’s size. She had managed to slip in some neon pink wristbands when he had his eyes averted, convinced that pink really complimented his skin tone.

                Now praying that the ordeal was almost at an end, the two of them sat down at a Parisian-style café. As soon as their bottoms hit the chairs, a waitress was upon them with a bottle of champagne. The waitress was too friendly for Vegeta’s liking and she gibbered on, staring at him all the while and batting her eyelashes. Suddenly, she stopped staring and blushed. She then busied herself with pouring the champagne and hurried away. Mrs. Briefs took her champagne flute and sipped daintily.

                “My goodness, Veggie,” she sang. “If looks could kill that girl would have passed on the spot. She really was lovely, but not nearly as lovely as my sweet Bulma.”

                He was suddenly aware that he had been almost snarling at the girl. She was throwing it all out there pretty heavily, in his defense. He grabbed his glass forcefully and, by some magic, it made it to his lips without shattering in his firm grasp. The matriarch kept throwing hints out that she knew that he and Bulma had been coupling on occasion. He had no idea why the idea of anyone else knowing bothered him. As Mrs. Briefs had said numerous times throughout the morning, he was quite the catch and Bulma was one of the most sought after women in the whole city. What they didn’t know about her was that she spent most of her time in sweatpants from her alma mater and a Capsule Corp. tee in any state of wornness. She perpetually had messy hair pulled back with whatever she had on hand, oftentimes paperclips and literal rubber bands. She chewed on her pencils whenever she was sketching prototypes and she smoked when she worked. Her face was streaked with oil whenever she worked on machinery and she shoved candy wrappers (usually peppermint discs) in the pockets of her lab coats. If they knew all of the annoying things she did, maybe everyone wouldn’t lust after her so much.

                The afternoon was half over before Mrs. Briefs and Vegeta made it back home. He had no idea how she had managed to keep him out for so long; knowing the strange family and the company they kept, she very well be an accomplished time bender or some nonsense like that. As they pulled in to the Capsule Corp. compound, Bulma was just getting out of her sleek business hovercar. She was bent over, fishing out her briefcase from the backseat just as they stopped in the adjacent parking spot. She emerged from the vehicle, large sunglasses on her face and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth.

                “You are just getting back?” Bulma said in shock. “How did Vegeta not kill you? How are you still alive?”

                “Oh Bee,” Mrs. Briefs chortled as she shut her car door. “Vegeta is quite the gentleman. We had a lovely outing. He didn’t threaten my life at all.”

                Vegeta rolled his eyes and muttered something in his native tongue under his breath. Bulma clicked her tongue, shaking her head slowly. “It may be a first. You’re getting soft, Veggie.”

                He snarled, “Shut your mouth, woman. How dare you call me that?”

                “I think I hear your father calling me,” Bunny said, swiftly but sweetly. “You two behave yourselves.”

                Bulma leaned against her car, crossing her arms in front of her so her breasts were more accentuated. She said quietly, “What are you going to do about it, oh mighty prince?”

                “Your parents know,” he said bluntly. “At least your mother does and the moment she keeps a secret is the day Kakarott takes your spot as a technology guru.”

                Bulma lit her cigarette and sighed, “My mother is better at keeping her mouth shut than you would imagine. She knows a lot more than she lets anyone think.”

                Vegeta reached across the space between them and took the cigarette from Bulma’s mouth, incinerating it with a flare of ki. He said simply, “That’s disgusting.”

                She pouted briefly, but then her eyes lit up. “Just so you know, I made the biggest deal of my career today. You should add expert negotiator to that technology guru title you gave me a minute ago. I never knew you thought so highly of my work, Veggie.”

                “I swear to the god of every planet, Woman, if you call me that one more time—“

                He was caught off guard by Bulma pressing herself against him, pushing him against her mother’s car. Though he didn’t respond at first, gradually he relaxed into her, one hand wrapping around her and grabbing her bottom firmly. After sharing a bit of fire, she pulled back, tracing around her lips with a finger to ensure she hadn’t smeared her lipstick. She whispered, “Tonight. I expect you.”

                She walked out of the garage area and towards the house, her heels clicking and signaling her every step. He stayed pressed up against the car, running his hands over his face in exasperation. Thankfully he quickly remembered the upgrades were complete and he was left to train angrily for the rest of the evening without any aggravating female interruption.

                There was a reason his father had told him that women were trouble.


	4. Homework Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bulla begins running into trouble with her math homework, someone unexpected steps in to help her out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter dedicated to my dear tumblr vegebros toomuchdeepness4u and sammybunny711 <3

Bulma and Trunks were away for the week for a company conference in North City, leaving Vegeta home with Bulla. The idea of having to be responsible for a child for the majority of a week, regardless of the fact that it was his child in question, would have horrified Vegeta a number of years ago. Keeping tabs on his daughter wasn’t difficult, particularly because she was in middle school and now insisted on doing everything herself. The two of them had fared well; Vegeta drove Bulla to and from school with minimal complaint and the pair ordered a preposterous amount of delivery in the evenings. One night, Bulla had even baked a cake for the two of them to snack on as they went about their own evening business. Bulla was much less demanding of her father’s attention than Trunks was at her age, though maybe that was just because Vegeta spent more time in the family area and marginally less time locked up training.

                Thursday afternoon went about as normal. Vegeta picked up Bulla from school as he had for the other days of the week. He listened to her gab on about her day, nodding at what he hoped was the correct time while keeping his road rage to a minimum. (To be honest, Bulma was much more prone to swear in front of the children while driving. Vegeta had accepted long ago that driving human vehicles was painful and testing on his nerves. This acceptance allowed him to bottle up his festering rage rather than ending countless lives.) They pulled into the driveway at home and parted ways, Bulla to the house and Vegeta to the gravity room, until they reunited for delivery for dinner.

                After hitting a plateau in his workout, Vegeta powered down the simulator an hour earlier than planned. Perhaps he would train in the pool after dinnertime to change things up a little. He entered the family area of the house to find his daughter sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream, her homework strewn about on the coffee table. She gave her dad a small wave, otherwise preoccupied with her television show.

                “Did you finish your homework?” Vegeta asked. He sat next to her on the couch and took the ice cream and spoon.

                Bulla shook her head. “I am taking a break. I got stuck on a problem and I need to rest my brain.”

                “I see,” he said simply. He handed back the sweets and leaned forward, picking up a few sheets of his daughter’s homework. She had been taking high school level classes for the past semester after complaints from Bulma that she wasn’t getting enough of a challenge at her middle school. Though the school was hesitant to advance her due to maturity and social stigma, which Bulma wrote a strongly worded letter to the superintendent about, she was put in an accelerated track that fit her skills properly. Once in regular coursework for math, science, and language, Bulla was now making up for lost time and working through a great amount of work in a short period of time. Pages of math homework lay in Vegeta’s hand now. Her work was starting to resemble Bulma’s scratch calculations, though in a nicer handwriting that she had inherited from neither of her parents.

                “I tried to call Mom and Trunks for help but they were out for dinner with some potential investors,” Bulla remarked. “Mom said she would call back after. They both suck at explaining things, though.”

                Vegeta felt his brow twitch as he looked things over. There was little he liked less than not being able to understand things put in front of him. Bulla added sweetly, “I wish you knew math, Daddy. You are so much better at teaching me, like when we are training and stuff.”

                Bulla set the empty ice cream container down on the side table and hopped up from her spot on the couch. Her cheerful demeanor back in place, she sang, “Let’s have dinner early! I will call and get our order put in.”

                Long after Bulla had gone to bed a light in the lower levels of Capsule Corp flicked on. A soft hum of fluorescent lights kicked in, illuminating the passageway to his wife’s workroom. Once inside the room itself, his nose upturned at the mess of books, papers, and discarded coffee cups strewn about. Vegeta picked up a coffee-stained bank statement and tossed it into the overflowing rubbish bin. Although he would never dispute Bulma’s genius, her refusal to keep her workstation clean was rather annoying. Remembering his task at hand, he turned his attention to the bookshelves along the office walls. He scanned the many spines, settling finally on a thick blue book with white font. He remembered Bulma talking about a pilot program they had developed when Trunks was in grade school. Her father had an idea called “Entry-Level to Engineer” which was an accelerated math and science program designed to get all of their employees acquainted with advanced topics. The program had fizzled, perhaps because the two brains behind the operation had never struggled with math and therefore set unrealistic parameters for people to complete the program. Morale tanked and the idea was canned.

                Vegeta opened the book and surveyed its contents. The book was thick, yes, but the most intimidating aspect was the sheer amount of content that it held. The wording was dry and more complicated than it really needed to be. No wonder the program had failed. Bulma had insisted that “you just needed to get a few chapters in and it really picked up”.

                He snapped the book closed, causing a cloud of dust to form. Tucking the book under his arm, he turned from the office and headed back upstairs.

               

                Bulma and Trunks returned from their conference in time to pick up Bulla from school on Friday. The rest of the day went about with nothing out of the ordinary happening. Trunks had asked his father about sparring together but Vegeta insisted on training alone. Not one to be too bothered by an evening off, Trunks put on a movie to watch while doing crunches in the living room. Bulla went for an evening jog around the sizeable compound and Bulma went to do some paperwork in her workroom. Dinner came and went and still Bulma hadn’t seen her husband at all. Bulla went to bed and Trunks headed out with friends for the night before she decided to investigate.

                She was surprised to see that the simulator was not engaged. She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for the door to swing open but nothing happened. Through with waiting, she knocked heavily on the door. A moment of silence and the door opened. Her husband stood before her, breathing normally and devoid of sweat or strain. As a matter of fact, he looked like he hadn’t been training at all. Bulma’s look of annoyance changed to one of confusion.

                “Hi,” she said simply. “I haven’t seen you since I got home. Were you training?”

                “I was in the gravity room. What else would I be doing?” he remarked, crossing his arms.

                “You’re not all sweaty and gross, for one,” Bulma stated. “Isn’t that the sign of a good workout?”

                “There are many kinds of training, Woman,” was his reply. “I am finished for the night, though. For once you had decent timing.”

                “You’re an ass,” Bulma said with a smile. She leaned in and pecked him on the lips. “I missed you while I was gone. Sorry I didn’t call or anything. Bulla said you guys had a good time this week.”

                “Hmph.”

                “There’s nothing wrong with spending time with your daughter, Vegeta. There is a lot of strength in being a good father. The whole hot dad thing is pretty sexy too,” she said, winking. She had his attention now. “Come on. We need to make up for the time we were apart. I may have even snuck off to get you a little present while we were up there. North City is known for its specialty boutiques.”

                Vegeta sighed and followed his wife.

 

                A few days passed. Bulma was working on a massive pile of paperwork. She massaged her forehead with a hand, dropping the pen in her other hand. Still rubbing the stress from her face, she reached out to grab her coffee cup. Her hand only found air where her cup was a moment ago. She cast her eyes to the side and nearly jumped out of her chair in surprise.

                Vegeta stood almost directly in front of her. He had managed to enter the room and take her coffee cup without her noticing anything at all. His lips curled up in a sneer briefly before he took a long sip of her hot drink.

                “Don’t do that to me!” she cried in exasperation. “You are giving me grey hairs for crying out loud. Can’t you knock?”

                “The children are giving you grey hairs. I am keeping you young, Woman,” he said devilishly, replacing the cup on her desk. “You put too much shit in your coffee.”

                She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. She questioned, “What are you doing down here anyway? I don’t suppose you came down here just to keep your beautiful wife company while she worked to keep a roof over your ungrateful head.”

                “You think so highly of yourself,” he said, smirking. He leaned against the front of her desk. “I require a calculator.”

                Bulma looked like he had grown antlers. She gave him a quizzical look, asking, “Why?”

                “When the Prince of all Saiyans asks for something, you need not ask questions. I thought you would have learned that by now. So much for being a genius,” he teased, though not maliciously. “Now, Woman. Time is of the essence.”

                She leaned forward, uncrossing her arms. “I can’t fathom a reason in a million years why you would need a calculator. Are you going to start designing spaceships?”

                “I could do a damn better job than you. You better hope that is not the case,”  he spat, his annoyance beginning to get the better of him.

                “Fine, fine,” she acquiesced, putting her hands up in fake surrender. She rummaged through her drawers for a moment before pulling out a blocky pink calculator with more buttons than one could imagine. She passed it to him. He reached out reluctantly. After decades together, one would imagine that he would be used to Bulma’s ridiculous attraction to pink. She added, “I have had that baby for a long time. Be careful with it.”

                He mumbled something as he turned on his heel and left the room. She called behind him, “Love you too, Sweetheart!”

                She chuckled, still confused, and returned to her work with a smile.

 

                Bulla was surprised to see her father waiting for her after school one afternoon. He was parked in the usual meeting spot about a block away from the madness of after school traffic. She climbed into the blue SUV and tossed her backpack into the back seat.

                “Hi Daddy,” she greeted, leaning over to give him a small kiss on the cheek. “I didn’t know you were going to pick me up today. Where is Mom?”

                “She is at home,” he responded, his tone short as he merged into the school traffic. After a moment passed he asked, “How are your studies?”

                “They’re fine,” she said slowly, a note of confusion in her voice. “Is something wrong?”

                “Nothing is wrong," he muttered. He cast a sidelong look at her. “Are you still having troubles with your mathematics?”

                “It’s a lot harder than the stuff I was doing before Mom talked to my teacher, but I know I can do it. I was going to ask Mom if she could get me a tutor just to help out with things from time to time,” she conceded.

                “That won’t be necessary,” Vegeta noted. “I’ve decided to step in and help you with your studies.”

                Bulla laughed openly for a moment before the car pulled to a complete stop. The loud blare of a car horn sounded behind them as they nearly got rear-ended. She looked at her father, genuinely scared now. He gave her a scathing, deadly serious look. He took his foot off the break and resumed driving as normal. Bulla gushed, “I am so sorry, Dad. I had no idea you were serious. How are you going to help me with my math? No offense, I didn’t know you even knew math.”

                Vegeta scoffed, “I had never studied mathematics formally until you voiced your concerns a few weeks ago. You said you wished that I could help you and so I learned.”

                The teen sat with her mouth agape. Vegeta pulled the car into the parking lot of a local coffee shop. He stopped the car and looked at his daughter and sternly said, “This stays between us. Your mother would have a field day if she knew I did all this for you. Your brother would be even worse.”

                “My mouth is shut,” she said, a smile spreading across her face. She threw herself across the center console, hugging her father. “You are the best dad in the whole universe!”

                “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “Let’s get this over with before I change my mind.”

 

                The timer on Bulma’s cell phone went off, signaling that she needed to stop her work to pick up her daughter from school. As she was elbows deep in engine repairs and Trunks was working right beside her, she considered asking Vegeta to pick her up instead. Strangely enough, Vegeta had been offering to pick Bulla up from school at least twice a week. Bulla had said that they liked to go out driving together after he picked her up. It warmed her heart that the two of them were bonding like they were. She worried about Trunks and that he may be jealous about the whole situation, but he and Vegeta still trained together several times a week. Besides, Trunks had always been a Mama’s boy.

                “Trunks, can you ask your father if he can pick up your sister from school?” she asked her son so as to avoid breaking away from her work.

                “He already left, Mom,” Trunks noted as he continued his welding work on a loose panel across the way.

                “Oh, okay,” Bulma responded, surprised that he had taken initiative. “That makes things easier. I don’t know what has gotten into your father lately. He has been so helpful.”

                “Most people wouldn’t complain about their husbands being helpful, Mom,” Trunks said with a laugh. He took off his mask, having extinguished the torch in his hands. He gave her a familiar smirk. “Dad’s always been a softie for Bulla. I think they have been going for coffee after she gets out of school. They come back smelling like a coffee shop.”

                “You Saiyans and your sensitive noses,” she said. “I wonder why Bulla has told me they have been going for long drives if they are just going to go get coffee.”

                “You know how Dad is about doing normal stuff. He probably just told her to fib a little,” Trunks said with a shrug. “I honestly don’t know how going for long drives sounds any better to Dad than drinking coffee. He drinks coffee all the time.”

                Bulma sighed now, feeling a bit sorry for her son. “I hope you aren’t too upset about the two of them spending time together like this. I know things were just starting to get better when you were your sister’s age.”

                Trunks walked over and gave his mother a hug. She hugged him back, careful to avoid getting her greased up hands on him. He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “My mother never raised me to be bitter. And plus, Dad and I train together. It wasn’t like he ever hated me or anything. Times have just changed since I was younger.”

                “They sure have, Trunks,” she mirrored. The two put the matter out of their minds and went back to their work.  

 

                Vegeta and Bulla returned shortly before dinner that evening. The two entered the living room; Bulla dropped her backpack on the floor before flopping down on the couch next to her brother. Vegeta was about to continue on his way to another part of the house when Trunks asked loudly, “Did you guys bring me back a coffee?”

                Bulla eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

                “Isn’t that where you guys were? I sensed your kis at the Bean Roastery off Main Street. Where’s my coffee?” he inquired, a knowing grin spreading across his face.

                Bulma entered the room just in time to chime in, “Yeah. Where’s mine? Trunks and I were talking earlier about how selfish it is for you both to go to coffee all the time without bringing us anything.”

                Vegeta walked further into the room, crossing his arms defensively. “You two can get your own coffee. Neither Bulla nor I are responsible for bringing anything home.”

                “I thought you guys were going out cruising after school. Isn’t that what you told me, sweet daughter of mine?” Bulma interrogated, sitting on the arm of the couch. Only barely a better liar than her transparent father, Bulla avoided her mother’s eyes.

                “I’ve been helping Bulla with her homework, okay?” Vegeta conceded finally. “You and Trunks are rotten at explaining things so I stepped in.”

                Trunks and Bulma exchanged a look before uniformly bursting into laughter. Vegeta scoffed and looked at his daughter as if to say “I told you this is how they would react”. Bulma finally choked out, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You don’t have to make something up. We were just teasing about being jealous.”

                Vegeta stood still, his gaze intense and his jaw set. Bulla sat up on the couch, anger flashing in her eyes. “Dad really is helping me with my homework. Neither of you have offered to help me out since my teachers increased my workload. I told Dad I needed some help and he helped me. I don’t know why that is so hilarious to you both.”

                She wore a scowl now that was so like her father’s that Bulma sobered up immediately. Trunks looked like he was trying to stifle a laugh behind his poker face.

                Bulma breathed out slowly and addressed her husband, “You’ve been helping Bulla with her homework all this time?”

                Vegeta nodded. Bulla still scowled deeply at her mother. Bulma apologized, “I’m sorry to have laughed. H-how… when did you learn math, Vegeta?”

                “When you and Trunks were away on conference, I borrowed a few books from your office and taught myself,” he said casually. “Your office is such a wreck it is no wonder you did not notice that anything was missing.”

                “Oh,” she said, falling short. “Is that where my binder for my Entry-Level to Engineer material went?”

                Vegeta said nothing before turning and stalking off towards the gravity room. Bulla huffed and grabbed her backpack, heading for her bedroom. Trunks rolled his eyes and reached for the remote. He added, “I told you Dad was a softie for Bulla. He took time out of his training to learn how to help her with her homework.”

                “Seriously,” Bulma sighed, sliding off the couch arm and onto the couch. A moment passed between them.

                “You still want coffee?” Trunks asked when nothing on TV looked any good.

                “I’m down for coffee.”

                “I’ll drive.”

 

                Neither Bulla nor Vegeta had mentioned anything about their study sessions at dinner. Neither Trunks nor Bulma had bothered to ask. Dinnertime conversation was comprised mostly of Bunny and Dr. Briefs going back and forth about the state of the economy, the impending storm on the forecast, and how much the children seemed to have grown lately (although Trunks had stopped growing a number of years ago). After dinner, Bulla took off to finish her homework and Trunks followed Vegeta for some evening sparring in the backyard. Bulma helped her mother clean up the mess from dinner and then curled up in bed with a book. Hours later, Bulma could hear Trunks and Bulla bickering about something minute when Vegeta opened the door to their bedroom and slinked inside. Wordlessly, he strode to the bathroom and she heard the shower turn on. She returned to the pages of her book. She heard the crash of something glass and then her children stopped arguing. Whatever it was about, Bulma hypothesized that Bulla had ended the argument by throwing something at her older brother. She would deal with it later; her book was just getting good.

                Vegeta emerged from the bathroom a few moments later, clad in a pair of shorts for sleeping. He paused at the foot of the bed and asked, “Did you already yell at the brats or should I take care of it?”

                “Don’t bother,” she said, waving a hand lazily. “They quieted down.”

                Vegeta strode to the door and peeked his head out. He yelled, “You two better hope to the gods of this planet that whomever broke that figurine cleans it up before morning.”

                He shut the door and walked to the bed. He flopped down lazily on top of the covers next to his wife. She reached out and stroked his hair. “I love you.”

                “A terrible decision on your part, honestly,” he responded, his voice muffled by the pillow.

                “I think it’s really wonderful what you’ve done to help our daughter,” Bulma said as she closed her book and put it on the nightstand. “You are a great father to our children.”

                “I can see it now,” he said, rolling onto his side. “Mass murderer gets Father of the Year Award. I think it would be a great headline.”

                “I couldn’t agree more,” she said with a laugh. Vegeta scoffed and repositioned himself under the covers. He reached across Bulma and turned off her lamp, plunging them into the semi-darkness. The moon cast a cool light across the room now. Bulma cozied up to her husband, resting her head against his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him. He didn’t shrug her away. As she listened to his breathing slow, she smiled and drifted off to join him in sleep.

               

               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, for reading! Your comments and kudos warm my little nerdy heart!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed my first AO3 entry. I am certainly open to constructive criticism and suggestions!


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